


Cold

by WhisperElmwood



Category: Naruto
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperElmwood/pseuds/WhisperElmwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neji's got a cold. He's never had one before and is feeling rather low.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Written sometime 2007. UnBETA'd.

Neji was dieing.

He was certain of it.

Ninja geniuses of his caliber simply did not catch trifling colds.

So he must be dieing. It was the only thing that made sense.

He blew his nose, balled up the tissue and dropped it on top of the steadily growing pile on the floor.

Neji was currently curled up on the sofa, wrapped in the double duvet from the bed and drowning his sorrows in cup after cup of hot tea. His throat hurt, his sinuses ached and he had one hell of a migraine. His head, in fact, appeared to be full of nothing but cotton wool and snot.

The former of which was causing him problems. He was a genius. He relied on his brain an awful lot. But now his head wasn't working and he Didn't Like It.

He'd tried to play Shogi against himself, to pass the time. But he'd lost - on both sides. The board has made a satisfying thump as it smacked into the far wall.

He'd tried listening to the radio, to alleviate his boredom. But it had been playing nothing but noise. His kunai had missed by mere millimeters, so he'd had to get op to turn the blasted thing off.

(And since when did the great Hyuga Neji miss, anyway? That had just depressed him further.)

He'd tried reading. He had a small pile of books by his feet - books on stratagem, books on the philosophy of the Blood Line Limit and even a soppy romance novel, that he was sure belonged to Hinata. But they'd just made his migraine worse, so he'd given up, dropping balls of tissue all over them instead.

For some time, he'd amused himself by counting the various types of weapon marks in the tree outside. But his Byakugan had begun to make his eyes ache, which just made the migraine worse - so that had put paid to that.

Now, he was just sitting in the gloom, feeling sorry for himself.

It didn't help his mood any, that Shikamaru wasn't expected back for at least two more days.

He was doomed to die alone.

All alone and with no dignity, at that.

'Woe is me.' He blew his nose again.

There was a knock on the door and he eye'd it balefully for a moment - let them in to chase away the boredom, or tell them to fuck off and retain some dignity?

The door opened, effectively removing the conundrum for him. Chouji stuck his head in and smiled, the swirls on his cheeks distorting for a moment, "Hi Neji, I got word from Shikamaru that you weren't well, so..."

As Chouji stepped into the room, Neji did his best to hide the tides of tissues. His eyes fell on the object being held out for his inspection.

Neji glared at the proffered pot. It steamed gently.

"What is it?" Though it came out 'wotd is itd?'

Chouji moved into the kitchen and a moment later, he could hear things being moved around as the other youth apparently made himself at home.

"It's a secret family recipe, to help one get over a cold."

Neji sniffed disdainfully (instantly regretting the action as he sneezed in his next breath,) "It's not a cold, I'm dieing and nobody cares."

Chouji only chuckled, making Neji disappear further into the folds of his duvet, swearing vengeance on the whole Akimichi clan. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the incessant tickling at the back of his throat.

"Here, eat this. You'll feel much better for it."

Chouji was offering him a steaming bowl of what looked like broth. Neji glared at it, but took it and the spoon anyway. Chouji disappeared from view - presumably back to the kitchen.

After a few moments of eyeballing the steaming broth, Neji diegned to try some.

By some miracle, it soothed his throat. "Hey, actually, this is quite good. Thanks, Chouji!"

Chouji put a thermos on the coffee table in front of him, "There's more in here. Drink as much as you can and you should feel loads better by tomorrow."

Neji nodded. Chouji left.

Half an hour after finishing his second bowl, Neji fell asleep.

\----

Fully expecting an irate Neji the instant he opened the door to their apartment, Shikamaru was understandably reluctant to go home.

But, on the other hand, if Neji found out that he'd finished the mission early and then avoided him... Well, it would be far too troublesome. So he went home.

He found Neji snoring on the sofa, wrapped to the ears in their duvet, surrounded by tissues. It was kind of cute. In a wierd, ill kind of way.

Being as quiet as possible - and for a Jounin of his caliber, that was very quiet indeed - Shikamaru moved about the apartment cleaning away tissues, putting away books and collecting badly flung weaponry. He was mildly perplexed to find his Shogi board and pieces scattered haphazardly at the base of the far wall.

Once done, he picked Neji up - duvet and all - and carried him to bed. He tucked him in, changed into his night clothes and climbed in beside him.

He fell asleep with his arms wrapped protectively around his gently snoring lover.


End file.
